the duchess will see you now

Grandfather of Fedoras

On this day four years ago, my grandfather passed away. I think about him and my grandmother all the time. Often when I am cooking I think about her and every time I garden with Yim I think about my grandfather. There is so much to say about this man in remembrance and celebration of his life. My intent was to write something long and moving about him on his birthday. But I let it pass without a word and now on this day I feel more somber than celebratory. Here is an old picture of him that could have been taken on any day of his life because he is prepared to work the earth, shovel in hand.

By the way, this picture reminds me of a phenomenon I discussed with friends recently. In our fair city there is a high number of old-growth trees beautifying many of the neighborhoods. By old-growth I mean the towering, thick-trunked oaks, sycamores, and elms. But in Little Italy there are almost no old-growth trees. The Italian immigrant population of Little Italy rid their yards of trees that only produced shade and leaf-drop in favor of fruit and nut producing trees, which generally remain small. My grandfather’s trees produced peaches, plums, figs and chestnuts.

Five years before he died he suffered ill health to the degree that I thought I was losing him. It was not his time, yet, but I wrote this poem in the midst of his struggle.

I’ve Known You Since You Were Small

But we met when you were fifty-five.

You still look like Clark Gable

all these years later,

and you’re still just as dapper.

After eighty-seven years

your hair and moustache remain blacker

than this December night.

But black has two shades.

There is a black pain rising

into my throat from the deep

part of my heart tonight.

On your return from the hospital

I am finally afraid. I think

about the shadow that will fall

across your chair when it is empty.

Will it remind me of your hair?

My sorrow?

Or both?

Grandfather of the garden.

Grandfather of wine.

Grandfather of fedoras, maps,

discipline, newspapers.

Engineer, inventor, politician,

Grandfather of the cellar.

Grandfather, we are a hard people,

but I promise that tomorrow

when no one is looking

I am going to hold your hand.

Your boyhood exists in full color for me,

though the pictures are black and white.

I fear the time it takes for your stories to fade

from my memory will not be long enough.

It seems that everyday you were breaking rocks free from the soil

you meant to farm. Every winter you beat your brother

downhill on wooden skis. In the war you marched everyday for three years.

4 Responses

A bittersweet day for sure. We are saddened for his passing but are comforted by all of those precious moments that we shared with him and with your grandmother.For those of you that didn’t know,both he and your grandmother filled a void in my life having to have lost both of my parents in my 30’s.They were from the same generation.Different in many ways nonetheless, they would have enjoyed each others company,that I am certain.They welcomed me into your family with open arms and shared their values,stories,holidays,
and traditions with me. I enjoyed sharing these moments with them more than even ZP even knows. This is why sharing those times ,like this passed Easter,were just so special. And in retrospect I think both he and Nonna would have it no other way.

A bittersweet day for sure. We are saddened for his passing but are comforted by all of those precious moments that we shared with him and with your grandmother.For those of you that didn’t know,both he and your grandmother filled a void in my life having to have lost both of my parents in my 30’s.They were from the same generation.Different in many ways nonetheless, they would have enjoyed each others company,that I am certain.They welcomed me into your family with open arms and shared their values,stories,holidays,
and traditions with me. I enjoyed sharing these moments with them more than even ZP even knows. This is why sharing those times ,like this past Easter,were just so special. And in retrospect I think both he and Nonna would have it no other way.